LEADER FOR FREEDOM; LAW MAKER.
When A-bra-ham Lin-coln was a score and five years old, a great
chance to step up came to him. His friends sent him to the Il-li-nois
Leg-is-la-ture. He had then not one dol-lar with which he could buy
clothes to wear to that place. A friend let him have the funds of which
he was in need, sure that they would come back to him.
At first, the young man in the new place did not talk or do much. He
felt that it was best for him, then, to wait and learn. He made a
stud-y of the new sort of men a-bout him at that time. When it came
his turn to speak, he said just what he thought on the theme that came
up. His mind told him that all who paid tax-es or bore arms ought to
have the right to vote. He was not a-fraid to say that, though men of
more years and more fame than he took the oth-er side. He was brave,
but not rash. His speech was plain, but to the point. He did not
boast. He did not try to hide the fact that he was poor. There were,
some-times, those who called them-selves “men,” who would point at his
plain clothes of “blue jeans” and laugh at them, and try to get oth-ers
to do the same. The great length of bod-y, the toil-worn hands, the
back-woods ways made talk for foes, but Lin-coln bore these “flings”
well, and oft-en used them for jokes.
Though this high post had come to A-bra-ham Lin-coln he did not feel
too proud to do the “sim-ple deeds of kind-ness” which he had done
all through his life. It seems that one day he went out with some
law-mak-ers, for a ride on the prai-ries. He passed a place where a pig
was stuck in the mud. The poor beast looked up at him as if beg-ging
his help. The look plain-ly said that death must soon come un-less the
horse-man gave his aid. Lin-coln was wear-ing his best clothes at that
time. They had been bought with the mon-ey his friend had loaned him. A
new suit could not be his for a long time. And yet, e-ven though gone
past, and at the risk of jeers from his com-rades, he went back, got
off his horse, and pulled the pig out up-on firm land. To be sure there
was mud on his clothes, but his heart was free from re-gret.
[Illustration: A KIND DEED.]
Though A-bra-ham Lin-coln had been ad-mit-ted to the Bar and had
been made a mem-ber of the Leg-is-la-ture, still he went on with his
stud-ies, nev-er let-ting a day go by on which he did not give some
hours to books. These books told a-bout math-e-mat-ics, as-tron-o-my,
rhet-o-ric, lit-er-a-ture, log-ic and oth-er things with hard names.
While at work with chain and tools, tak-ing the length and breadth of
the land, Mr. Lin-coln earned from $12.00 to $15.00 each month. He used
a part of this small sum to pay up an old debt and al-so had to help
his kin from week to week. But he felt he must give up this small sure
mon-ey for the sake of his new start in life, though the gains were by
no means sure to be large. He said he would “take his chance” at the
law.
It was in A-pril, 1837, that Mr. Lin-coln rode in-to Spring-field,
Ill., on a horse a friend had loaned him. A few clothes were all that
he owned, and these he had in a pair of sad-dle bags, strapped on his
horse. He drew up his steed in front of Josh-u-a Speed’s store and went
in.
“I want a room, and must have a bed-stead and some bed-ding. How much
shall I pay?” he asked.
His friend Speed took his slate and count-ed up the price of these
things. They came to $17.00.
“Well,” said A-bra-ham Lin-coln, “I’ve no doubt but that is cheap but
I’ve no mon-ey to pay for them. If you can trust me till Christ-mas,
and I earn an-y-thing at law, I’ll pay you then. If I fail, I fear I
shall nev-er be a-ble to pay you.”
Lin-coln’s face was sad. He had worked hard all his life, had helped
scores of folks, and now, af-ter so man-y years, when he much need-ed
mon-ey, he had none.
The friend-ly store-keep-er tried to cheer the good man. “I can fix
things bet-ter than that,” he said. “I have a large room and a dou-ble
bed up stairs. You are wel-come to share my room and bed with me.”
So A-bra-ham Lin-coln took his sad-dle-bags up stairs, and then came
down with a bright look on his face, and said, “There, I am moved!”
In Spring-field at that time was a man who had been with Lin-coln as a
sol-dier in the In-di-an war. This was Ma-jor John T. Stu-art. He took
Lin-coln in with him as a law-part-ner and their firm name was Stu-art
& Lin-coln.
A-bra-ham Lin-coln’s first fee was three dol-lars made in Oc-to-ber,
1837. There was not much law work the first sum-mer. What there was had
to be paid for, oft-en, in but-ter, milk, fruit, eggs, or dry goods.
In those days folks lived so far a-part, that courts were held first in
one place and then in an-oth-er. So Lin-coln rode a-bout the land, to
go with the courts and pick up a case here and there. In this way he
saw lots of peo-ple, made warm friends, and told scores of bright tales.
At no time did he use a word which was not clear to the dull-est
ju-ry-man. All things were made plain when Lin-coln tried a case. Not
on-ly was he plain and straight in what he said and did, but his heart
was ev-er ten-der and true.
A sto-ry is told of a thing that took place on one of the “cir-cuit
rid-ing” trips. Lin-coln saw two lit-tle birds that the wind had blown
from their nest, but where that nest was one could not say. A close
search at last brought the nest to light, and Lin-coln took the birds
o-ver to it and placed them in it. His com-rades laughed at him as he
jumped on his horse and was rid-ing a-way.
“That’s all right, boys,” said he. “But I couldn’t sleep to-night
un-less I had found the moth-er’s nest for those birds.”
All ha-bits of stud-y were kept up, and in time fame as a speak-er
came to A-bra-ham Lin-coln. As a wri-ter, too, he was prized. E-ven at
the age of a score and nine years he wrote so well up-on themes of the
day that the San-ga-mon Jour-nal and oth-er pa-pers would print his
ar-ti-cles in full.
In the year 1840, Miss Ma-ry Todd of Ken-tuc-ky be-came Lin-coln’s
wife, and helped him save his funds so well that, in a short time he
was a-ble to buy a small house in Spring-field. Then, soon, he bought a
horse and he was ver-y glad to do so.
By that year so well did Lin-coln speak that his name was put up-on
the “Har-ri-son E-lec-to-ral Tick-et,” that he should “can-vass the
State.” As he went a-bout the land he oft-en met old friends, those who
had known him as a poor boy. Some-times it chanced that he could be of
use to them.
There was a Jack Arm-strong who once fought Lin-coln when he was a
clerk at Of-futt’s. The son of this man was in trou-ble. The charge was
mur-der. His fa-ther be-ing dead, the moth-er, Han-nah, who knew and
had been kind to the boy Lin-coln, went, now, to the man Lin-coln to
plead with him to save her son. The case was tak-en up, and much time
and thought giv-en to it. Things which were false had been told but
Lin-coln was a-ble to search out and find the truth, and when at last
he saw it and made oth-ers see it, the lad went free.
Though, at first, A-bra-ham Lin-coln thought much of An-drew Jack-son,
as time went on he found that Jack-son held views that he could not
hold. So he came to be known as an an-ti-Jack-son man and made his
first en-try in-to pub-lic life as such. At the age of 31 he was known
as the a-blest Whig stump speak-er in Il-li-nois. Two great Whigs at
that time were Dan-iel Web-ster and Hen-ry Clay. Lin-coln was sent, as
a Whig, in 1846, to the Con-gress of the U-ni-ted States, and he was
the sole Whig mem-ber from Il-li-nois.
[Illustration: DANIEL WEBSTER.]
[Illustration: HENRY CLAY]
Of course, friends were proud to feel that the poor back-woods lad had
come to so much fame. Some of the old folks said they “knew it was in
him.” Oth-ers said “I told you so!”
Lin-coln had the same good sense that he had from the start.
He made up his mind to watch and wait. He knew that he could learn a
deal from such great men as Web-ster and Clay. When he had to speak he
said just what he thought in a plain strong way. He did not want war
with Mex-i-co. He was not a-lone in this. But he thought that men who
fought in that war, brave sol-diers, should have their re-ward.
A thing that was of great weight Lin-coln did at that time. He put in
a bill which was to free the slaves in the Dis-trict of Co-lum-bia.
By his vote more than once for the famed “Wil-mot Pro-vi-so” he hoped
to keep sla-ver-y from the Ter-ri-to-ries gained through the war with
Mex-i-co.
Though some fame came then to Lin-coln, funds did not. Spring-field,
home, and law work fol-lowed when the term in Con-gress was o-ver.
Those who took the oth-er side from Whigs were called Dem-o-crats. They
made a strong par-ty in Il-li-nois, and were led by a bright man whose
name was Ste-phen A. Doug-las. His friends called him “the Lit-tle
Gi-ant.” This, they thought, would make known to all that though he was
small in size he was great in mind. He was well thought of as a mem-ber
of Con-gress, could make a good speech, was a fine law-yer, knew how to
dress well, and had a way of mak-ing folks think as he did.
While hard at work in law ca-ses, all at once, the calm of Lin-coln’s
life was bro-ken by a thing that took place in 1854. A plan or pro-mise
had been made that sla-ver-y should not spread north of the state of
Mis-sou-ri. When the new states of Kan-sas and Ne-bra-ska were a-bout
to be made, this good pro-mise was thrown a-side and a bill was passed
by Con-gress which said that the folks who had their homes in those
states might say that there should or should not be sla-ver-y there.
The man who put in that bill was Ste-phen A. Doug-las. The bill roused
great rage in those who felt that sla-ver-y had gone quite far e-nough.
Most folks at the North felt that the time had come to cry “halt.”
All through the states this theme was so much talked a-bout that two
sides were made, one of which was formed of those who were will-ing
that sla-ver-y should go on and spread, while the oth-er was formed
of those who did not wish to have black men held as slaves in the new
lands.
Speech-es were made in great halls, and crowds came to hear what the
speak-ers had to say. In Il-li-nois, Lin-coln, who all his life had
been a-gainst sla-ver-y, spoke straight to the peo-ple, show-ing them
the wrong or the “in-jus-tice” of that bill. His first speech on this
theme, has been called “one of the great speech-es of the world.” He
was brave and dared to say that “if A-mer-i-ca were to be a free land,
the stain of sla-ver-y, must be wiped out.”
He said “A house di-vi-ded a-gainst it-self can-not stand. I be-lieve
this gov-ern-ment can-not en-dure half slave and half free. I do not
ex-pect the Un-ion to be dis-solved; I do not ex-pect the house to
fall; but I ex-pect it will cease to be di-vi-ded. It will be-come
all one thing or all the oth-er. Ei-ther the op-po-nents of sla-ver-y
will ar-rest the fur-ther spread of it and place it where the pub-lic
mind shall rest in the be-lief that it is in the course of ul-ti-mate
ex-tinc-tion, or the ad-vo-cates will push it for-ward till it shall
be-come a-like law-ful in all the states――old as well as new, North as
well as South.”
This speech made a great stir in the land. Some men and wom-en had
worked for years to do and say the best thing for the slave but not one
had put things just right till Lin-coln said that “if A-mer-i-ca would
live it must be free.”
Lin-coln’s friends told him that they felt that his speech would make
foes for him and keep him from be-ing sen-a-tor. The good man then said:
“Friends, this thing has been re-tard-ed long e-nough. The time has
come when those sen-ti-ments should be ut-tered; and if it is de-creed
that I should go down be-cause of this speech, then let me go down
linked to the truth――let me die in the ad-vo-ca-cy of what is just and
right.”
From the first, Lin-coln felt as if he were in the hands of God and led
by Him in what he was to say and do in the cause of Free-dom for all.
He felt that he, him-self, was not much, but that “Jus-tice and Truth”
would live though he might go down in their de-fence.
Though not quite half a cen-tu-ry had then gone by since his dear
moth-er had held him in her arms in their poor Ken-tuc-ky home, and it
was less, too, than a score and five years since he swung his axe in
the woods on the banks of the San-ga-mon to earn his bread and that
of his kin from day to day, still, with the great prize be-fore him of
that high post in the land, which he had long hoped to gain, he casts
from him all chan-ces for his fur-ther rise, and in that hour stands
forth one of the tru-est, no-blest men of all time.
Friends kept say-ing to Lin-coln “You’ve ruined your chan-ces. You’ve
made a mis-take. Aren’t you sor-ry? Don’t you wish you hadn’t writ-ten
that speech?”
Straight came the an-swer, and it was this:
“If I had to draw a pen a-cross my whole life and e-rase it from
ex-ist-ence, and I had one poor lit-tle gift or choice left as to what
I should save from the wreck, I should choose that speech and leave it
to the world as it is.”
Men then be-gan to think as they had nev-er thought be-fore. It seemed
as if a death-shot had been sent straight to the heart of sla-ver-y.
That speech was, how-ev-er, but the first of a hard and fierce
strug-gle be-tween two sides of one of the great-est ques-tions ev-er
brought be-fore an-y na-tion.
Lin-coln and Doug-las went up and down the state of Il-li-nois
talk-ing in halls and in “wig-wams” as the build-ings were called
where they spoke. Some-times they made a speech on the same day, out
of doors, where large crowds would come. Both oft-en held forth in the
same hall, one mak-ing his views known be-fore din-ner and the oth-er
talk-ing on the oth-er side af-ter din-ner. Lin-coln was not known to
make fun of an-y one, but there were scores who made fun of him, and
tried to make him an-gry. But he an-swered all their scoff with sound
state-ments, and found friends where oth-ers would have made foes.
Doug-las had a way of tell-ing folks that Lin-coln said some things
which he did not say. This was hard to bear, but Lin-coln would tell
the crowds just what he did say at such and such a meet-ing and peo-ple
would be-lieve him.
Lin-coln’s print-ed speech-es went through all the states, and soon
folks out-side of his own state had a wish to hear him. They felt that
he was at the head of the par-ty for real lib-er-ty. So the time came
when A-bra-ham Lin-coln spoke East and West, in Il-li-nois, O-hi-o,
Con-nect-i-cut, New Hamp-shire, Rhode Is-land, Kan-sas, and New York,
and crowds would be still while he pled the cause of lib-er-ty and
struck blows at sla-ver-y. It is said that when he spoke in New York
he ap-peared, in ev-er-y sense of the word, like one of the plain folks
a-mong whom he loved to be count-ed. At first sight one could not
see an-y-thing great in him save his great size, which would strike
one e-ven in a crowd; his clothes hung in a loose way on his gi-ant
frame, his face was dark and had no tinge of col-or. His face was full
of seams and bore marks of his long days of hard toil; his eyes were
deep-set and had a look of sad-ness in them. At first he did not seem
at ease. The folks who were in that place to hear him were men and
wom-en of note as well as those not so well known. There was a sea of
ea-ger fa-ces to greet him and to find out what that rude child of the
peo-ple was like. All soon formed great i-de-as of him, and these held
to the end of his talk. He met with praise on all sides. He rose to his
best when he saw what the folks thought of him. He spoke in his best
vein. His eyes shone bright, his voice rang, his face seemed to light
up the whole place. For an hour and a half he held sway in that hall
and spoke straight to the point, clos-ing with these words,
“Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith let us,
to the end, dare to do our du-ty as we un-der-stand it.”
A tale is told of Lin-coln’s go-ing with a friend, while in New York,
to vis-it a Sun-day School at Five Points, a place where waifs were
brought each Sab-bath to meet kind men and wom-en whose wish was to
help them.
As the good man saw the poor chil-dren from the slums of the cit-y,
his ten-der heart was deep-ly touched. His own poor child-hood came up
be-fore him, and when urged to speak he said words which brought tears
to all eyes. He told them that he, too, had been poor; that his toes
stuck out through worn shoes in win-ter, that his arms were out at
the el-bows and he shiv-ered with the cold. He said he had found that
there was on-ly one rule――“al-ways do the best you can.” He said he had
al-ways tried to do the best he could, and that if they would fol-low
that rule that they “would get on some-how.” When he felt that he had
talked long e-nough and tried to bring his words to a close, there were
cries of “Go on!” “Do go on!” and so he told his young hear-ers man-y
things that they were glad to hear. Then they sang some of their songs
for him, and one of these moved him to tears. He asked for the book
where those words were print-ed, and a cop-y hav-ing been giv-en to
him he put the lit-tle hym-nal in-to his pock-et, and man-y a time in
af-ter days drew it out to read.
At last, as he was leav-ing the school, one teach-er, who had not
caught his name, when the head of the Mis-sion, Mr. Pease, gave it out,
went up to him as he passed and asked what it was. The great man said,
in low and qui-et tones, “A-bra-ham Lin-coln, from Il-li-nois.”